


Here, Now

by Morbidmuch, turtle_wexler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Haunted House, Smut, open/ambiguous ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26747569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbidmuch/pseuds/Morbidmuch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_wexler/pseuds/turtle_wexler
Summary: When Sybill Trelawney suggested a charming cottage with stunning views for Hermione and Severus's first holiday together, they should have known better than to listen to her. There are far worse things in the cottage than the ancient plumbing and leaky roof.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 101
Kudos: 140
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons Discord Members, Hot Buttered Cottage Prawn, SSHG Spooktober Fest 2020





	1. Chapter 1

His first mistake was taking advice from Sybill Trelawney. Always a risky proposition. His second mistake was agreeing when Hermione said, “I’ll drive. I have the route all mapped out.”

Severus stared through the passenger-side window at the mist-shrouded hills. Familiar stone walls crisscrossed the landscape, marking out boundaries he’d already seen. They had passed that gnarled Scots pine tree at least twice before.

“We are not lost,” Hermione said.

Severus snorted. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your silence was very loud. And judgy.”

“My silences are always teeming with judgment. As are the moments in which I’m speaking, for that matter. It is an art I have perfected over many years, Hermione.”

Laughing, she pulled the car off of the narrow road and into a lay-by. “That’s true. Right, let’s get out and walk around a bit. I need a break from driving.”

Unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the car door, Severus stood up on stiff legs. How long had they been on the road? It felt like it had been hours since they’d last seen another car.

Pressing her hands into the small of her back, Hermione groaned. “Excellent start to our first holiday together,” she said. “Maybe we should—oh!”

She sprinted towards the bloody Scots pine on the other side of the road. Pushing the branches aside revealed a sign with the words they’d been searching for: _Glasshouse Lane_.

Severus wouldn’t have noticed the turning at all from the car. The asphalt of the lane was so cracked and overgrown with vegetation, it almost blended into the surrounding heather.

He opened his mouth to say something about the dunderheaded owners of the cottage not trimming the tree, but a shadow darted past his peripheral vision—a hint of claws and teeth that froze the words in his throat and stopped his heart in his chest. He turned in a circle, looking for the source.

“Severus?” Hermione said.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I didn’t see anything.”

He scowled. There _had_ been something. He hadn’t imagined it. Slipping a hand into his pocket, he gripped his wand.

“Let’s go,” he said, more eager than ever to reach the cottage. Whatever that shadow had been, it had made him want the security of four walls around him—a place he could secure with layers upon layers of wards.

The lane was even bumpier than it looked. Severus braced one hand against the roof of the car to keep from knocking his head. Open fields of heather, already asleep for the winter, stretched out around them. When they reached a crumbling stone bridge that arched over a gently flowing brook, Severus held his breath, expecting the stones to give way beneath the weight of the car.

This holiday was meant to be relaxing. They should have gone with his original plan of retiring to his bed for two weeks.

“This is fun,” Hermione said.

Severus released a long exhale as they reached the other side of the bridge. “Fun.”

“Yeah. It feels like an adventure. Like—oh, look! I think I see the cottage.”

She did, indeed, see the cottage. Even from a distance, the large chips in the dingy white render were visible. Attached to the back, right next to where the roof sagged, was a conservatory made from rotting wood.

Hermione stopped the car at the end of the drive. As if on cue, one of the shutters on the single-glazed windows fell off of its hinges. Well. Delightful.

“This is the _charming cottage_ with stunning views?” Hermione asked as they both got out of the car.

“I suppose it serves us right for trusting Sybill,” Severus said.

“Fair point.” Taking a deep breath, she turned in a circle. “Well, she was right about the views.”

“Indeed.”

Hermione grabbed his hand and beamed. “Come on. I’m sure it’s better on the inside.”

* * *

Hermione's false bravado became weaker the closer to the cottage they got. It looked even worse up close. Several of the windows were cracked, and the paint on the door – which had probably been green at some point – was peeling.

“We'll explore the surroundings tomorrow, yeah?” Hermione asked as she dug into her bag for the key. Darkness was falling quickly around them; they _were_ supposed to have arrived hours ago.

“Whatever you say, dear,” came the reply and she rolled her eyes.

“You know, you could be a little more enthusiastic. Ah, found it.” She proudly held up the key and tried it in the door.

The door swung open surprisingly easily, but with a groan that made the hairs at the back of Hermione's neck stand up.

They entered the cottage with trepidation. Hermione tried the light switch by the door, but nothing happened.

“How lovely,” Severus said, letting go of her hand and walking farther into the cottage.

“It's rustic,” Hermione said, raising her wand and magically turning on the lights.

As light settled into the corners of the room, Hermione gulped. The square sitting room was sparsely furnished, with a moth-eaten sofa and half collapsed coffee table directly in front of them and a tall, soot-blackened fireplace on the right wall. A narrow hallway directly to their left held two doors (presumably the bedroom and bathroom), and to their right was what she supposed was the kitchenette, though she wasn’t sure she would want to eat anything prepared there. The cooker looked like it was held together by rust and hope.

“It's almost worse than the Shrieking Shack,” Severus scoffed and pointed his wand at the sofa. At once it looked if not good, then acceptable. “And I almost died there.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to put down her bag. “You're being dramatic.” She shrieked when he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“And you're insufferable,” he said, voice closer to her ear, before kissing her jaw.

Smiling, she leant back against his body and covered his hands with hers. “You love it.”

He spun her around, those dark eyes staring into her soul and making her core clench pleasantly. “I do.”

Hermione stretched up to kiss him, but he pulled back.

“Ah, ah. First we need to make this place liveable. Merlin knows when someone was last here.”

It took them almost two hours to get the small cottage clean enough for their tastes, and Severus put up so many wards she could feel them humming against her skin. In their exploring, they found evidence that some sort of rodent had inhabited the small conservatory behind the sitting room. Hermione shuddered. As long as it wasn’t rats. It was pitch black outside when Hermione lit the fire in the hearth and sat back on the sofa. The floorboards creaked as Severus joined her from the bedroom, where he'd been at war with the bedsheets.

She looked up at him, smiling. “There. Isn't this nice?”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “Downright cosy.” Bracing one hand on the back of the sofa, he used the other to raise her chin slightly.

Her toes practically curled when their lips met, and she rose to a kneeling position on the sofa to gain better access to him. It was still so new—being allowed to touch him and kiss him felt nothing short of miraculous after months of silent yearning—but she was certain she would never get enough of this. His arm found her waist, and she tangled her fingers in his collar. The steady passion ignited when she coaxed his lips open and their tongues met. Then she was floating, and realised Severus had pulled her off the sofa and was carrying her towards the bedroom.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to hold on as he navigated them through the space. Then she was jostled as he tripped over something, and they stumbled into the wall with a thud. Their teeth clashed painfully, and her upper back took the brunt of the impact.

Severus tore his mouth from hers. “Fuck. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she panted, touching her lower lip where his teeth had dug in. “You?”

Chuckling, he nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.”

And she leant up to kiss him again, the pain fading with each brush of his lips. No, she would definitely never get enough of this. They made it to the bedroom without any further incident, and she reclined on the sheets he'd insisted they bring with them. Every nerve ending in her body was alight as he trailed his kisses down her jaw and to the wide neckline of her jumper. She tried to pull his shirt from his trousers to touch his bare skin, but he batted her hands away.

“Severus,” she whined, but it turned into a moan when he pushed her jumper up and fastened his mouth on a bra covered nipple.

He released her nipple, regarding her with a raised brow. “Yes?”

She laughed breathlessly. “Don't stop!”

“Oh, I haven't even got started.”

Hermione followed when he sat up, and it was a flurry of hands and lips as they fought to remove each other's clothing as fast as possible. When his naked body covered hers, she sighed in contentment and stopped for a second to just take in the feel of his skin against hers. He smiled, the smile that was only for her, and reached between their bodies to circle her clit. She moaned, hands tightening around his shoulders.

Severus's lips found her nipple again, lavishing attention on first the one and then the other until she was a quivering mess and so close that one more flick of her clit would have pushed her over the edge. But he pulled back, and she cried out in frustration.

“Patience,” he smirked.

“No,” she growled, hooking her heels around his arse to pull him into her. “I want you.”

That smirk of his confirmed what she already knew. He loved it when she was bossy and demanding—loved those parts of her that everyone else had always told her to tone down. Hermione’s heart gave a little flip.

Her eyes almost rolled back into her head as he slowly pushed inside of her, stretching and filling her. She never wanted it to end; his hot breath against her neck, the base of his cock hitting against her clit with every thrust, that dip in his waist that was perfect for gripping. She was so close already that a shift of her hips and a handful of thrusts were enough to send her over the edge.

“Hermione,” he gasped, movements growing erratic.

The bed creaked with every thrust, and she raked her nails down his back. She loved watching him lose control—loved the way his gaze stayed locked with hers, loved the sound of him groaning her name as he came.

After, as their panting breaths slowed, Severus kissed her fiercely before rolling onto his side.

Hermione stretched out and closed her eyes, feeling both sleepy and deeply sated. She felt the coolness of a cleaning charm wash over her, and smiled. “Mmm, I'm tired.” Opening her eyes slowly, she found Severus watching her. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied, pulling the covers over them. “Maybe this holiday won't be so bad after all.”

Chuckling, Hermione moved closer and tangled her legs with his. “We'll have a great time, you'll see.”

He harrumphed, but pulled her close. “Sleep, witch.”

In that hazy space between waking and sleeping, right before her eyes fluttered shut, a shadow clawed across her vision. Shivering, she nestled closer to Severus. It was just her imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find both of us on tumblr: Morbidmuch [here](https://morbidmuch.tumblr.com/) and turtle_wexler [here](https://turtlewexlerwrites.tumblr.com/). We'll be updating this fic on Thursdays. 🖤🎃👻


	2. Chapter 2

The mattress had a crater in the middle—a massive dip, carved out by the bodies of strangers. Severus’s back ached from the lack of support when he woke, alone in the crater. He couldn’t hear any signs of Hermione fighting with the ancient kettle in the kitchen, attempting to make tea. There was no sound of rushing water from the direction of the shower, either.

“Hermione?” he called.

No answer. Pulling on his boxers, he padded out to the sitting room. Everything was still and silent. The breakfast supplies they’d put in the fridge hadn’t been touched, but that was hardly a surprise. Both of them were hopeless in the kitchen, but Severus somewhat less so. Hermione always left the cooking up to him.

“Hermione?” he said again, opening the bathroom door. 

Nothing. Dark and empty. Where the fuck was she? It wasn’t like her to just leave without saying anything. Thinking back to their first night together, a hint of a smile broke through his mounting concern. She had kissed his neck to drag him from sleep, claiming she was going to pop out to the bakery down the road and get them some croissants. Instead, one kiss had led to twenty, and she’d ended up gasping and moaning on top of him. They hadn’t come up for air until well after breakfast time had been over.

Why hadn’t she done that this morning? Crossing to one of the cracked windows, he scanned the surrounding land. Grey mist curled over the heather, blotting out the distant hills. The chill that blew in reminded Severus of the soul-deep cold of Dementors. Gripping his wand, he flung open the window.

“Hermione?” he shouted. His voice was swallowed by the mist.

Silence. 

Maybe she had never been there at all. Maybe he had died in the Shrieking Shack, and now he was discovering that Hell was a Muggle cottage chosen by Sybill Trelawney.

Raking a hand through his hair, he turned back towards the kitchenette, then blinked. Why the devil was that cupboard open? It hadn’t been a second before. Gods, if this place had a poltergeist, he was going to give every single one of Sybill’s crystal balls to Peeves for croquet practise. He slammed the cupboard shut.

“Expecto Patronum,” he said, focusing on all of his brightest memories of Hermione. 

The doe sprang forth, prancing around in a circle. Its light seemed dimmer in this place, like it had soaked up some of the gloom. When Severus waved his wand to indicate it should search for Hermione, the doe didn’t move. He tried again.

“What the hell?” he muttered, dismissing it.

Stomach churning, he marched back to the bedroom. His clothes from the night before were no longer on the floor, where Hermione had left them after she’d peeled them from his body. They had been tossed over the chair next to the rickety wardrobe. The wardrobe itself had both doors wide open, and the thick winter duvet from the bed had been chucked on the floor, on top of Hermione’s open suitcase. None of it had been like this a few minutes before.

“Hermione,” Severus said. “If this is some ill-conceived prank that George Weasley has somehow convinced you to pull, I assure you, I am not amused in the slightest.”

Again, no response. Naturally. If Severus was going to do anything about whatever the hell was happening, he needed to be clothed. Lifting his suitcase onto the bed, he unzipped it and pulled out the black robes he’d intended to wear if they ventured into any wizarding areas. Shrugging into them was like putting on a uniform. Battle armour.

As he fastened the final few buttons, those shadowy claws he had seen the day before once again crept through his peripheral vision. This time, they were accompanied by a high pitched wail, like the whistle of wind on the Astronomy Tower.

“Homenum Revelio.”

The spell should have either emitted a blue glow to indicate the presence of another human or, in the absence of another person, produced no effect at all. Instead, it flickered near the bedroom door a couple of times and fizzled out.

What did that mean?

For the first time in a long while, he didn’t know what spell to cast. Every protective ward he knew was still in place, cloaking the cottage. His Patronus had been useless. He wanted to get out of there, but he needed to find Hermione. He couldn’t go anywhere without her.

Potter. Hermione would go to Potter for help, wouldn’t she? Or perhaps Minerva? Severus sent Patronuses dashing off to each of them, asking them to send word if they heard from her. Potter’s doe carried an additional demand to send every one of Potter’s bloody Aurors out to scour the countryside. After a moment of thought, Severus cast a Patronus for Sybill as well.

“Sybill, what the fuck?”

Rubbing his forehead, Severus froze as he noticed the hook next to the front door. Hermione had hung the car keys there the night before as he’d set up the wards. It was empty now.

Maybe she had simply left him. 

He let the thought sit there, cold and heavy and as sharp as the claws that once again swiped across his vision. The Slashing Hex he aimed at the shadows only succeeded in further ruining the tattered, avocado green drapes.

The car. Severus sprinted towards the door and burst outside. The car was parked exactly where she’d left it, but the driver’s side door had been left wide open, the keys in the ignition. What had happened? Had something been chasing Hermione? Had those shadows come after her? Had she tried to escape and been caught here? There was no sign of a struggle. No blood, no marks in the gravel that suggested anyone had been dragged away.

Deciding to take a quick drive around the area to search for any evidence of her, Severus slid into the front seat and turned the key. The engine didn’t so much as rumble. 

Fine. He didn’t need a bloody car. He could see more from the air. It wasn’t as if any Muggles would spot him out here. Even if they did, he could deal with it. Drawing himself up, he rose into the air. 

Indistinct shapes that were obscured by the thick mist didn’t become any clearer as Severus flew closer to them. After a few seconds, the world turned grey. All he could see was mist. He had to turn back. She could have got lost, but it wouldn’t do her any good if he did as well.

“Fuck,” he said.

Not knowing what else to do, he flew back to the house. Things were, once again, not as he’d left them. All of the drawers were open, contents strewn everywhere. On the dining table, he found a pen next to a piece of paper. Familiar handwriting spelled out a short message.

_Severus? Are you there?_

Hermione’s handwriting. It made no sense, but he picked up the pen and wrote a shaky reply.

_I am._

As soon as he set the pen back down, it floated up as if lifted by an invisible hand and scratched out another message.

_Oh, thank Merlin. I keep trying to cast Finite, and it feels like it doesn’t quite catch. Like there is some spell to undo, but my magic can’t get a grip on it. Can we try casting it together? Look at the clock next to the bedroom door. Cast when the second hand reaches 12._

Severus readied his wand. Three, two, one…

“Finite Incantatem.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione readied her wand. Three, two, one...

“Finite Incantatem.”

The room remained still and silent.

She wasn't sure what she expected to happen. She'd hoped that Severus would appear – since he was obviously there somehow – but there wasn't so much as a glimmer of him. She didn't like this one bit.

From the moment Hermione had woken up that morning she had known something was wrong. The bed had been cold and empty, with no sign of Severus. As she had moved through the house – and, later, outside – the hairs on the back of her neck had risen. Someone, or something, was there. Watching her.

A flash of movement in her peripheral vision made her spin around, the stunning spell erupting from her wand catching only the empty air. Her chest felt heavy, and she tried to slow her breathing.

Maybe nothing was there. Maybe it was all a trick. Severus could have left early and charmed the paper to make her think he was still there. Why would he want to be with her anyway? She was a pathetic swot. He would never love her; the only one he'd ever loved was Lily. Hermione had just been a replacement. Both Muggle-born, both Gryffindors, but Lily had been beautiful and graceful and she was not. He had finally realised that, and left her there.

She sank down in the rickety chair by the table and rested her head in her hands. Everyone left her, in the end. Ron had, back when they were on the run from You-Know-Who. Her parents, once she'd figured out how to reverse the memory charm, had wanted nothing to do with her. Harry and Ginny were in their perfect new parents bubble, with a toddler and another on the way. She had no one. And now Severus had left her too.

The pen scratched against the paper, and she almost set the bloody thing on fire. This charade was far too cruel, even for him. She glanced at the note.

_Hermione? Are you still there, love?_

That word made her blink. Love. It had been hinted at for weeks, but neither of them had spoken the words aloud. Her heart clenched. She refused to believe everything had been a lie. Severus, above all things, was an honourable man. He would have told her if something was wrong.

Something was very wrong. What had made her doubt him so suddenly? Hadn’t things been going well between them? Smooth sailing--kisses and laughter and, yes, the occasional argument, but mostly in a good-natured way. Mostly. And, gods, why did she start feeling that gnawing doubt the instant she looked away from that word? _Love._

Hermione picked up the pen.

_I'm here. The finite didn't work, I'm not sure wh_

Something slammed into her side, sending her flying to the floor. Pain radiated from her temple, and she fought back the urge to vomit. Groaning, she gingerly sat up. It wasn’t her imagination; there was some _thing_ in the house. She stood slowly, and when she was satisfied she wasn't going to lose the contents of her stomach, she raised her wand.

A movement in her peripheral vision made her spin around and cast a wordless hex. The tattered, avocado green drapes fluttered.

She felt trapped, like an invisible force was squeezing her body. With a pang, she recognised these feelings. The whispering voices, the doubt, the feeling of helplessness and being unworthy. It had been almost ten years since she’d carried that bloody locket around her neck, but she hadn't forgotten how it had made her feel.

Breathing deeply, she pulled up her Occlumency shields. Her mind cleared, and she felt like herself again. Whatever was affecting her wasn't as strong as the Horcrux had been – and thank Circe for that – and therefore should be fairly easy to banish. In theory, anyway.

She cast a low level banishing spell.

A dull roar echoed, and the door to the conservatory slammed open, swinging on squeaky hinges.

Hermione jumped.

All right, maybe she needed to try something stronger.

She tried every revealing and banishing spell she knew – including a few Severus had taught her that were borderline dark magic – but nothing worked. Each spell she cast seemed to anger whatever spirit occupied the house more and more. Windows shattered in the panes, shards of glass scattering across the floorboards. Cupboard doors tore free and went flying. And through it all, that clawing, shadowy _thing_ kept darting past, just out of sight.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Hermione's stomach filled with dread. She was running out of options, and having her Occlumency shields up was taking more energy than she could spare. There was only one thing she hadn't tried. Ducking beneath the upturned table, she found the pen and paper. Severus had left several messages, each one more frantic than the previous.

_Hermione, are you all right?_

_What is happening?_

_Hermione, what the fuck is going on?_

_HERMIONE?_

_I swear to Merlin if you don't answer me soon..._

Putting the pen to paper, she scrawled a quick message.

_I'm here! Get outside and honk the car horn twice when you get there. Quickly!_

Her heart pounded in her ears as she listened for the car horn. If he didn't – or wasn't able to – comply, she didn't know what she would do.

Then came the sound she'd been listening for: two short but shrill honks. She sprang into action. The door slammed against the wall as she went outside. It was drizzling, and the mist seemed even thicker and more stifling than the day before.

Facing the cottage, Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She needed to ground herself, find her centre. She called upon her magic, letting the familiar sizzle of it course through her veins and out from her fingers into her wand.

Raising her arms, she opened her eyes and cast Fiendfyre.

With a roar, flames burst from her wand. The vinewood bucked in her hand as the Fiendfyre tried to take control, but she grit her teeth and directed the fire towards the cottage. Within seconds, giant snakes and chimeras made of flame engulfed the entire building. The heat of it was so intense, she nearly raised a hand to shield her eyes and face, but she didn’t dare look away. Not for a second. A terrible shriek prickled over her skin and made her want to run, and purple smoke rose from the flames.

She needed to bring the fire down. Brow furrowed, she spoke the counter-spell to quench the flames. She felt them resisting, but she stood fast, and they finally succumbed to her. All that was left of the cottage was smoke and ash and the crumbling bricks of the fireplace.

Her arms felt like lead as exhaustion seeped through her bones. Her knees buckled, and she prepared to meet the hard ground.

Then strong arms wrapped around her waist as a low voice spoke in her ear. “I've got you, love.”

* * *

A strangled gasp fell from Hermione as she sagged in his arms. He pressed a kiss against her temple, breathing in the acrid stench of smoke and trying to detect Hermione’s familiar cinnamon and vanilla scent beneath it. He needed as much proof as possible that this was real—that she was with him again.

“I can hardly believe it,” he said, keeping his voice as steady as he could. “Gryffindor theatrics actually worked.”

Hermione snorted. “I missed you, too.” Her arms slipped around his waist, nearly squeezing the breath out of him. “And I’ll have you know that the first time I saw that spell cast, it was by a Slytherin.”

“I am aware. Now—” he paused to kiss her heat-chapped lips as gently as he could, “—shall we get the fuck out of here?”

“Yes, please.”

As Hermione had quite neatly done away with everything they’d brought, they got straight into the car. This time, when Severus turned the key in the ignition, it started. Never before had he been so grateful for Muggle technology. He sped back to the main road, nearly flying over the crumbling bridge.

“Severus?” Hermione murmured as they passed the gnarled Scots pine tree.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

The words—the obvious response that shouted through him—got stuck under the sudden lump in his throat, but Hermione didn’t seem to mind. Resting a hand on his thigh, she gave him a secret sort of smile.

Mist closed in around them as they travelled on. And—no. That couldn’t be the same Scots pine. Severus shrugged it off. Not ten minutes later, there it was again.

“Where’s that map?” he asked.

“In the glove box, I think.” Hermione rummaged around, shoving aside the car’s instruction manual and scowling. “Erm. I really hope I didn’t leave it in my handbag.”

As he looked back and forth between her and the road, he caught something out of the corner of his eye: a shadowy claw reaching towards him. The Scots pine rose out of the mist again.

Fuck.

“Hermione?” he said.

“Yes?”

Steering with his right hand, he laced the fingers of his left together with hers and squeezed. “I love you, too.”


End file.
